Snowed In
by fishe153
Summary: "When was the last time a little snow hurt anyone?" The Dunder Mifflin crew is stuck at the office overnight due to a blizzard. With food supplies running low, they divide into two groups to compete for the dwindling resources. S3
1. Business in the Workplace Seminar

**Chapter One**

**The Seventeenth Annual Business in the Workplace Seminar**

The rumble of music became thunderous as Michael pranced from the hallway into the office. He held a boombox under his arm, and wore blue blocker sunglasses over his eyes. Dwight followed closely behind, tossing confetti against the walls with a death glare.

"Oh _yeah!_" Michael shouted over _Handbags and Gladrags. _"Who's pumped for the Seventeenth Annual Business in the Workplace Seminar?"

**Pam**

"Every two to three months Michael has his Annual Business in the Workplace Seminar. It pretty much means he lectures us all day. You might not think anyone here would be into that, but we actually all are." She paused. "There's endless pizza and soda if you go, and you don't have to work. So I'd normally be happy for this, but, in case you couldn't tell from the puffy eyes and pale face, I have a really bad cold."

"Leave all phones at your desk!" Dwight ordered as Michael entered the conference room. "For today, all attention must be given to Michael. Also, I will be closing all the blinds on the windows and locking the door. So for those of you who have spent your whole lives coddling your bladders, I suggest you visit the bathroom now."

**Dwight**

"Why am I locking the door and closing the blinds? Simple. On Friday of last week I received a message in my inbox. It said that I had to forward it to twenty other people, or else Attila the Hun would rip my heart out of my nose. Of course, I immediately sent the message to two hundred people. However, there is a catch. Today, I must perform ritualistic sacrifices, or else everything I have already done will be ignored. Unfortunately, I don't know what the ritualistic sacrifices are, so it is my solemn duty to protect this company from the brutal conquerer who would compromise security."

Dwight stood outside the conference room door, forcing each employee to sign a sheet as they shuffled in.

"What is this?" Jim asked when his turn came.

"It's a contract stating that you will stay for the whole time, and not tamper with the blinds."

"Oh, didn't I have to sign one of those when I applied here?"

"No."

"So, it's not necessary for me to sign it now."

"No. The sheets you signed when you first got this job allowed you to work here. This is extra-curricular."

"Well, it's work-related."

"Just sign it," Dwight growled.

Jim signed and walked in.

Michael stood at the front of the room. "Okay, everyone here? Good. Today, to start off our seminar, we will be talking about the Ten Biggest Business Blunders." He turned around, took a marker from the whiteboard easel, and wrote '10 Biggest Business Blonders'. He made a column of numbers one through ten and turned back to his workers. "Okay, so brainstorm, what are some of the biggest mistakes any of you have made since our last session. Or in your career."

"I never make mistakes," Dwight said as he closed the door and took a seat with everyone else.

"He's right," Jim commented. "I've been waiting to see him make any sort of error since I started working here. He is infallible."

"Thank you," Dwight said, not turning to Jim, who sat in one of the middle rows. "Finally, something constructive coming out of your mouth."

"I thought he was going to screw up once," Jim continued. "When he sneezed on a sales call. Luckily, he dodged a bullet by blatantly stating that he rejected the client's 'God bless you'."

"That was to show I don't depend on superstition. A real man makes his own superstition."

"Okay, that's a good one," Michael said. "'Believing in God,' business blunder number one." He wrote it on the board.

Angela raised a hand, and Michael called on her when he turned back. "Condemning your business to hell through irreverence," she said coldly.

"That's sort've in conflict with number one," Ryan said.

"Good point, Ryan," Michael said. "Any other suggestions?"

No one spoke.

"Okay, fine, then I'll have to get the ball rolling again. Um, let's see... Toby!" He gestured to Toby, sitting in the back row. "He is a living blunder." Michael turned around and wrote, 'Toby's existence,' under number two.

**Toby**

"I'm not really that offended. Last session he made a list of the 'Top Ten Hugest Failures,' and I made the list. Three times. The session before that was a pedophile list. I actually only made that one twice.

"Hey, Jim, Karen, what are you two up to?" Michael asked, hours after the completion of the blunder list.

Jim sat next to Karen, a binder propped up half on his leg and half on hers. He looked up. "Just taking notes."

**Jim**

"Karen and I are playing a game called Extreme Tic-Tac-Toe. I know what you're thinking, 'Jim, how could you possibly make Tic-Tac-Toe more exciting than it already is?' Well, we have a ten-by-ten board, instead of three-by-three and... actually, the rules just get more complicated from there, so let's just leave it at this: it's slightly better than listening to Michael for eight hours."

A rap on the door drew Michael's attention away from the index cards he read off of. He unlocked and opened the door. A teenaged boy with a considerable stack of pizza boxes in his arms stood in the doorway. "Twelve sheets from Alfredo's Pizza Cafe," he said dully.

"Great," Michael said, "just come to my office for the dough." He smiled boldly at the kid. "You know, dough, a word for money and it's also..."

"I'm done for today after this, so I just want to–"

"Okay, okay, be quiet." Michael said. The boy took a step back so that Michael could make his way to his office. He walked behind his desk while the boy stood in front of it.

"You know," the boy said, "it's practically a blizzard out there. It looks like a lot of businesses will be closing early today. You probably should keep that in mind."

Michael waved one hand and gave the boy money with the other. "Nonsense. I'd have a riot on my hands if I tried to end this seminar early. Gotta keep the morale up, you know?"

The boy shrugged and left.

**Michael**

"Am I concerned that there's a blizzard outside? Allow me to answer that question with another question. When was the last time a little snow hurt anyone? Do you think in Alaska they freak out every time there's snow? Of course not. They're always prepared. They have snowmobiles and snowshoes. And ride polar bears. So, no, it's no reason to stop my seminar."

Hours later, Michael started a rehearsed skit with Dwight. Stanley looked at his watch. "Well, it's five o'clock. I'm heading home."

He stood up and made his way to the door.

"I'll unlock it for you," Dwight said, cutting Michael off mid-sentence.

Everyone else got up, despite Michael's begs for them to stay and see the rest of the show. Meredith opened one of the window blinds. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"What is it, Meredith?" Kelly asked. She stood in the doorway and pulled Ryan back in with her.

"There's like, twenty feet of snow in the parking lot."

"How can you tell?" Ryan asked. "It's snowing so hard it's like a white mist."

"Can you see any of our cars?" Meredith asked.

Ryan squinted. "Oh... no."

Kevin burst back into the room, slamming the door into the wall in the process. "Guys, we're snowed in!"

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>Dwight has food saved around the office. But only enough for eight people. Who will make the cut?

**I want YOU to leave a review today!**


	2. Teams

**Chapter Two**

**Teams**

Michael stood with his employees in the lobby. White filled the windows in the doors, the wall of snow pressed right against the building.

"Great. Now how do we get out of here?" Angela asked.

"Let's just be thankful for now that we still have electricity," Oscar commented.

"Okay, just shut it, Oscar," Michael said. "We're going to get out of here."

"Let's at least open the doors," Kevin suggested.

"Yeah, great plan, then we'll all get engulfed in snow," Karen said.

"I'm opening the doors." Kevin spoke with heroic determination.

"NOOO!" Michael hollered. He threw himself behind Hank's desk as Kevin swung open one of the doors.

The snow stayed stagnant, keeping its flat shape.

Michael peered out from under the desk. "Can we leave?"

"Looks like it," Creed said with a smile. He walked forward, right into the snow.

"Creed, stop!" Kelly shrieked. "You'll die."

Creed pressed his body in more, making it a few feet in and establishing a tunnel. Then he turned around and walked back in, snow covering his front side. "Nope. No way through it."

**Jim**

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I almost wish I wouldn't have confiscated Dwight's flamethrower."

"Okay, back to work," Michael said, heading toward the elevators.

"You don't want to go in there," Toby said. "If the power goes out–"

"Shut it, Toby!" Michael snapped. He stormed toward the stairwell.

Fifteen minutes later, Jim, Dwight, and Karen all sat at their desks. Kevin walked past Oscar, Creed, and Meredith- who talked together by the copier- and over to Jim. "Hey, man, you know you're not getting paid overtime to keep working, right?"

"That's true," Jim said. "But, the way I see it, I have nothing better to do now, and if I get my work done now, then I'll have less to do on Monday, so maybe I'll be able to come in to work late."

Dwight scoffed. "You're so lazy, Jim. I'm working hard now and I'll work even harder on Monday. You have no work ethic." Dwight leaned down a bit to open one of the drawers in his desk. He pulled out a water bottle. Jim watched Dwight carefully as he took a sip. "This tastes strange," he said slowly. He put the bottle to his mouth for another mouthful.

"Oh, Kevin," Jim said, as Kevin began to walk away. "Just so you know, there's no salt left in the kitchen."

Dwight spat the water, spraying it over Jim's keyboard. "JIM! You put salt into my water." Kevin snickered as Jim shrugged.

"That I can neither confirm nor deny. I can, however, say that you just damaged company property, and I will tell Michael if you don't dry this water immediately."

"I've got some paper towels in my desk," Dwight replied dully. He opened another cabinet. "_Dammit, Jim!_ How did you get so much glitter in here?"

Jim smiled at the camera. Lights sparkled off of the the glitter that filled Dwight's cabinet to the brim. Dwight turned away from the prank as he submerged his hand in the glitter. "Ugh, Jim, this is crossing the line."

**Jim**

"This really isn't such a big deal. So we're stuck in the office for a few extra hours. Most of us are just hanging out, some of us are working." He paused. "Some of us aren't taking it _quite _so well."

**Stanley**

He sat at the edge of his seat, his eyes widened aggressively at the camera. "You can take back integration! You can take back my right to vote! Hell, you can even take back my freedom! I don't care! I just want to go home. H-O-M-E home!"

A sharp bang at Michael's door turned Jim's and Dwight's heads in that direction. A few seconds passed without the noise returning. Jim turned back to his computer, but Dwight continued to stare at the door. The bang came again.

"What was that?" Ryan asked, sitting in the desk between Jim and Dwight.

"Oh, Michael is throwing things against his door to get attention," Jim replied.

Ryan nodded and returned to his computer game.

The bang came again. Dwight sprang out of his seat and marched to the door. He knocked. "Michael? Are you okay in there?" Another bang answered him. Dwight thrust the door open, only to be struck in the diaphragm by a plastic desk toy. He grunted in pain and closed the door behind him.

"What is the problem?" Dwight asked as he straightened up.

Michael slouched in his chair, his hand covering his eyes. "I'm unmoveableized by hunger," he moaned. "Don't you keep cans of food on every floor of the building?"

"Yes. Actually, I have cans of food hidden in every building on this street. But since we're snowed in, I'm stuck to this building. And all the other tenants locked their offices when they left, so I don't have access to those."

"Get everything from this office."

Dwight nodded. He jogged around the entire office- opening panels in the ceiling, pushing Jim off of his chair and cutting the cushion open, breaking off fake pipes under the kitchen sink, gathering more and more cans of food all the time. Ten minutes later he entered Michael's office, his arms full of cans.

"Excellent," Michael said as Dwight kicked the door shut behind him. "Close the blinds."

Dwight stepped forward, quickly arranged the cans on Michael's desk, and then ran to close the blinds; taking a moment to glare out of each window before covering them. He swooped back to the front of Michael's desk, his hands planted on the wood. "By my calculations, we could be stranded here for, at the most, twenty-nine days. More if there's a sudden nuclear holocaust."

"What are the chances of that?" Michael asked, concerned.

"About a hundredth of a percent."

Michael gazed in another direction, thinking about it. "Okay. How long will this food last the two of us?"

"About eight days."

"I'll start going on an insane killing spree if I'm stuck here anymore than three days, so we don't have to worry about lasting a whole week. How many people can we safely feed until the morning?"

"Probably eight. Considering most people in this office don't have the same self-denial capacities as us."

"Okay, so we have to pick eight people to keep alive," Michael said slowly. "This is the most important decision I've ever had to make as Regional Manager."

"What about the time you didn't know if you should wear a blue or red tie on that one sales call?"

Michael nodded. "Good call. So this is the second hardest decision I've ever had to make. Well, there's me and you, and six others. Ryan, that's a given."

"He'll probably want Kelly, too," Dwight said.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Who else?"

"Jim," Dwight immediately replied.

**Dwight**

"Why did I pick to feed the laziest, smart-assiest, stupidest person in the office who also happens to be my worst enemy? Simple. To create an equilibrium of leverage. Right now I owe him. Andy, my second worst enemy, got kicked out because of some stupid cell phone prank. Such idiocy could only be the work of Jim Halpert. After I do him this favor, we will be even, and I can go back to hating him."

"Okay, so that's…" Michael looked to the side. His eyebrows tensed as he mouthed words and counted on his fingers. "Three. Three people left."

"We should have at least one accountant. Even things out."

"Okay. Oscar."

"Bad idea." Dwight shook his head back and forth. "If we're in close contact with him for too long, we'll catch his homosexuality."

"Homosexuality is an STD. We can't get it just from being near him."

"Never hurts to play it on the safe side."

"Fine. Kevin."

Dwight scoffed. "Yeah, great idea. He'll eat the amount of five and a half regular men."

"That only leaves Angela."

"Great, Angela," Dwight replied even more suddenly than when he suggested Jim. "Two more."

Michael exhaled for a long moment. "Get Jim in here. Let him pick the last two people. This is too hard for me."

Dwight stared at Michael.

"What?" Michael asked.

"Nothing?"

**Dwight**

"Michael made me make a chart." He pulled out a sheet of graph paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. He held it in front of the camera, which zoomed in on it. "This is a chart of how 'That's-What-She-Said'-Worthy a statement is. According to this line here, anything with the word 'hard' or 'long' is a seven on the ten-point scale." Dwight put the sheet away. "That means Michael just ignored a level seven. His condition is worse than we ever dreamed."

Dwight walked to the door and opened it. "Jim Halpert. You are wanted in Michael's office."

Jim slowly got to his feet and walked to the door. Dwight closed it after he stepped in.

"I have something special to tell you," Michael said, a conspiratorial smile on his face. "Something that you can't tell anyone else about."

"Oh, is this about Dwight's _problem_?" Jim asked, turning his head back to Dwight, who stood by the door.

"Hey, that's between me and my doctor!" Dwight snapped.

"We have food, but only enough for eight people," Michael explained. "We already picked six, and you're one of them. You choose the last two."

"Wow. This is really wrong," Jim said. "You should redistribute the food so everyone gets some."

Michael's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, Jim. I never realized you were a Communist."

**Jim**

"Actually, now that I think about it, it's a literal miracle this office hasn't had a Great Communist Scare yet."

"I will not be subjected to your Communist agenda," Dwight spat. "It's _my _food, and I can give it to whomever I want. If you have a problem with that, then you don't have to eat."

Jim gave the camera a reluctant glance.

**Jim**

"Like I said, this whole thing really is not a big deal at all. No one's going to starve. But I _am _really hungry. So…"

"Karen," Jim said. "That's a given. And uh… Toby, I guess."

"Yuck!" Michael exclaimed. "No. No, I am _not _sharing this food with Toby. He's even more gayer than Oscar."

"Well, I'm not picking anyone else." Jim shrugged. "You can pick if you don't want him."

"Maybe we should take Toby," Dwight said. "Then, in case we run out of food, we won't have to worry about figuring out who we have to eat."

Michael pointed to Dwight. "Great idea. Fine. We can take Toby."

**Michael**

"Is this morally immoral? Look, I'm just looking out for my children. But sometimes, when shove comes to push, the best mothers know how to leave their children for dead if they're not as popular as eight of their other children."

Twenty minutes later, Michael, Dwight, Angela, Ryan, Kelly, Jim, and Karen sat in a circle, eating out of Dwight's cans with plastic utensils. Toby sat alone in the far corner.

"This actually isn't so bad," Karen said before eating a spoonful of mixed fruit.

"Yeah. I'm just going to try to avoid the meat as much as possible," Jim replied.

"What a wimp," Dwight snarled. He reached his hand into a can and picked up a glob of chicken. "The meat's the best part." He stuffed the chicken into his mouth.

Someone pounded on the other side of the door. "Hey, let us in!" Kevin called. "My stomach hurts!"

Jim put his fork into a can. He rose to his feet. "I'm going to let them in. We can afford to share."

Dwight shot to his feet. "I _knew _you'd do this, you Commie bastard! That's why I purposely sat next to you, even though I could have picked like, five better spots." He put his hand on Jim's shoulder and pulled out a pocket knife.

"Dwight! Put the knife away," Karen demanded.

"Calm down," Dwight said, turning to her. "It's only my intimidation knife."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I did my best," he sighed as he sank to a sitting position.

Kevin, Stanley, and Phyllis stood outside Michael's door. Kevin continued to pound.

"You let us in there this instant!" Stanley demanded. "We're _hungry_. I've put up with some ridiculous stunts at this office, but this takes the cake."

Pam watched numbly from reception.

**Pam**

"I'm not so concerned with food. We're out of tissues, so I've resorted to using toilet paper. And we're running low on that too."

Creed, Meredith, and Oscar joined the protestors at the door.

"You're all being very selfish," Oscar said.

"Come on, just let me in," Meredith said. "Just one more person. Redheads make it more fun."

"They're not going to give in, are they?" Phyllis asked, defeated.

"What can we do?" Kevin asked.

"Only one thing we can do," Creed said. "Form a counter-alliance."

* * *

><p><strong>Fact: <strong>According to the most recent national survey, only a Communist would refuse to review this chapter. You're not a Communist, are you?

**Note: **There is debate among experts as to whether the previously mentioned fact was entirely unbiased. Further research needed.

**Next Chapter: **A hostage is taken.


	3. Hostage Crisis

**Chapter Three**

**Hostage Crisis**

"This is really all we have?" Stanley droned.

Stanley, Phyllis, Oscar, Kevin, Creed, and Meredith stood around one of the tables in the break room. On its wood surface sat a fairly substantial pile of chips. Pam stood a bit away from them, staring blankly.

"We pooled all our money together, that should have been enough to buy everything in those machines," Creed said.

"I can't take this another instant!" Kevin declared. He turned from the table to one of the vending machines. He clenched his right hand and brought it back, about to drive it into the glass.

"Kevin, don't do that," Oscar said wearily. "I don't want this to become a news story and for people to know that the workers at Dunder Mifflin couldn't be without food for just a few hours without breaking company property."

Kevin stood frozen in his attack stance. "If I don't do this, someone else will."

"Who?"

"Okay, enough out of you!" Kevin slammed his fist into the glass. The crack of the impact burst against the walls. Kevin swore and pulled his fist back, sticking it in his mouth. "Ouch!" The glass remained unscathed.

"Well that's just perfect," Stanley said.

"I need to eat something more than chips," Phyllis said.

"Karen's right," Creed said, his brow lowered darkly. "I'll go microwave us some shoe." He left the room.

"It's not fair that they get to eat," Phyllis whined.

"It's just canned food," Pam replied stoically. "It's probably worse than the chips."

"We need their food," Meredith countered. "Maybe if we made a plan..."

"We're all in an emergency situation," Oscar said. "We all have a right to the food. Meredith is correct, if they won't give us the food, we will have to force them to share. If we put our heads together, I'm sure we can think of something."

"Yeah," Kevin said slowly. He raised his eyebrows with inspiration. "Like, what if we dug a hole under Michael's office?"

"That's a terrible idea," Stanley said.  
>"Yeah, we don't have enough shovels," Pam pointed out.<p>

"What about dynamite?" Kevin suggested.

"Anyone here keep explosives at their desks?" Meredith asked.

"Kevin, that's idiotic," Oscar ridiculed. "Where do you expect to get dynamite from?"

"We could call someone to deliver it," Kevin said.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "That wouldn't work on so many levels. No one here has cell phone service and–"

"Just a question," Pam said delicately. The others turned to her. "Does anyone have tissues at there desk or–" The others turned away from her and back to their conversation.

**Pam**

She covered the lower half of her face with her hand. "So no one cares about my cold? Okay."

Creed returned to the break room. "Sorry guys, the shoe thing didn't work. By the way, the microwave's broken."

**Creed**

"It's a shame. Shoe is my specialty. My secret is I leave the sock inside."

Oscar, Kevin, and Stanley stood just outside Michael's door.

"This is never going to work," Oscar whispered.

Kevin shrugged. "Worth a try." He knocked on the door. He spoke with a strong Austrian accent. "Open the door or prepare to be terminated."

"NO!" Dwight shouted.

"That's not what we agreed you would say." Oscar tilted his neck down and scratched his forehead.

"Sometimes you've gotta go with your gut," Kevin said.

Creed stood by the sales desks along with Meredith and Phyllis. "Think of it like this," he said, "if you were in there, what could someone tell you that would make you want to come out?"

Kevin raised his tongue over his upper lip for a second before nodding. "Hey, guys!" he said coaxingly. "Pam's in the kitchen. Shirtless."  
>Inside the office, Toby raised his eyebrows and Michael looked to the circle of people around the food. "Do you think he's telling the truth?" he whispered uncertainly.<p>

"Only one way to find out," Dwight said. He rose to his feet and walked to the door. He put his hand on the knob and turned it tentatively.

The door thrust open and Kevin and Stanley grabbed Dwight's arms. Dwight roared and flailed.

"Dwight! Put some back into it!" Michael shouted.

Creed ran into the room. He knelt down, scooped up an armful of cans, and dashed out.

"NO!" Michael screamed. He chased Creed out of his office and into the kitchen. Michael reached forward and grabbed Creed's shoulders just as he made it into the annex. Creed grunted in anger and dropped the food. Michael collapsed to the ground and picked all the cans up. Uttering a war cry, he ran hunched-over back to his office.

Dwight, having gotten Stanley and Kevin off of him, slammed the door shut after Michael re-entered. Michael dropped the food back into the center and leaned against his desk. "No need to thank me. I was just doing my job."

"Is that in your job description?" Jim asked.

Michael's eyebrows tensed. "I think there was a clause about it in there somewhere. Why, you think it isn't?"

**Jim**

"So, I thought this wasn't going to be such a big deal. Now that I think about it, that's sort've embarrassing."

"I think I have some bottled water in the fridge," Jim said, rising to his feet.

"Oh great, we can share," Karen said.

Jim nodded. "Okay. Anyone else want me to get something while I'm up?"

No one answered.

Jim nodded. He walked to the kitchen and stood in front of the place where the fridge was supposed to be. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. He looked down and saw the two scrape lines on the floor where they dragged the fridge. Jim followed the lines into the annex and walked to the outside of the break room. The refrigerator stood alongside the vending machines. The people uninvited to eat Dwight's food now had some meat from the fridge that they ate at the tables.

Jim saw Pam, who sat in one of the chairs, wiping her nose with a roll of toilet paper. He raised his eyebrows with a half-smile. Pam smiled back and shrugged her shoulders.

When Jim re-entered Michael's office the circle had dispersed, and Michael's group stood around the floor.

"You didn't get the water?" Karen asked, leaning against a wall.

"Sorry," Jim said.

"Why not?"

Jim gave the camera a quick look. "I decided I didn't want it."

"Something fishy's going on here," Dwight said. He shoved Jim out of the way and ran toward the break room. Michael followed right behind.

"Oh, you are going to regret this!" Michael said as Dwight and he reached the glass walls of the break room. He went for one door, while Dwight tried the other. Neither budged. The two came back together at the longest wall. Michael pressed his nose against it. The people inside looked bitterly back at him. "YOU LET ME IN AND GIVE THAT REFRIGERATOR BACK RIGHT NOW OR YOU'RE ALL FIRED!"

Oscar pointed to his ear and started mouthing words.

"Hey, I know you can hear us!" Dwight snapped. "So quit the routine."

"That's it!" Michael said stepping away. "This is war."

"Yes!" Dwight threw a fist into the air.

Michael walked determinately back to his office. "No one can leave this room anymore," he said to his group. "Everything outside here is no-man's land."

"Like the Western Front during the Great War," Dwight added.

**Dwight**

"I'm an expert on trench warfare. It's my favorite kind of non-fictitious warfare outside of biological warfare and nuclear warfare. And psychological warfare."

"Whatever, as long as I don't go into the break room, I'll be fine," Kelly said. "This place is really boring." She started for the door. "Come on, Ryan."

Ryan, who sat in Michael's chair with his hands behind his head, groaned, "One sec."

Kelly continued out the door and to the annex.

"Your funeral!" Michael shouted.

"Not going to lie," Karen said, "This whole 'war' thing seems really childish."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "But what can we do about it?"

Kelly's shriek made everyone look to the kitchen.

"Childish, Karen?" Dwight shot back as he ran back to the break room.

"Dwight, don't!" Angela called. "They'll get you too."

"I have to!"

Dwight reached the outside of the break room a moment before Michael. In the far corner, guarded by Meredith and Creed, sat Kelly.

"The first hostage," Michael whispered. "God help us all."

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>The power goes out, and a thus-far unmentioned character makes an appearance.

**Please leave a review. **You just might be rewarded with Creed's famous shoe stir-fry. Mmm, delicious. :D


	4. Murphy's Razor

**Chapter Four**

**Murphy's Razor**

Oscar's group (with the exception of Creed and Meredith, who still guarded the hostage corner) sat around one of the tables in the break room.

"Okay, so here's what we have so far," Oscar said. He cleared his throat and read the paper in front of him. "'To Michael and his group, As you know, we are holding Kelly hostage. We will gladly return her. However, we have a few simple demands. One: that you share the canned food in your possession. Two: That any other luxuries you have in your possession will be dispersed in a fair and equal manner.'"

"You need to have a third demand," Creed said from the corner.

Oscar turned to him. "Why?"

"One word: negotiations. They're going to try to strip down that there treaty as much as possible. You've got to overshoot to compensate."

"Good point, Creed," Oscar said, sounding surprised.

"Maybe we should ask that they have to perform a musical for us," Kevin suggested.

"Tissues," Pam said. "Ask for tissues."

"Enough about your goddamned nose," Stanley said. "This is a serious business meeting."

"What were you saying about a musical?" Phyllis asked.

Pam rose to her feet. "Okay," she said gently. She walked toward the door.

"Hey, you can't go!" Creed said. "Every army needs a little lady to raise morale. It's what your gender was _born _to do."

Pam turned back to them with her hand on the door. "I'm going to go find tissues. If somehow you guys get them, let me know." She left the room.

"What about dynamite?" Kevin asked after Pam left. "We could ask them for that."

**Oscar**

"Is this stupid? Well, what we have here is escalation. Sometimes you can only be as reasonable with someone as they're being with you."

"What are we going to do?" Michael asked, slamming a fist on his desk (he now sat behind it).

Jim sat on one of the chairs against the window wall. "You realize they're not going to hurt Kelly, right? They have the refrigerator, so, at this point, she might actually be better off over there."

"I don't really mind if they keep Kelly," Ryan agreed. He stood against the wall.

"Kelly left our base," Angela said. "She got what she deserved."

"What's that?" Michael asked, pointing to the bottom of the door.

Everyone turned. An envelope slid into the room from the crack between the ground and the door. It slithered in until it came half-way through, and then two pairs of feet scurried away from the floor.

Jim leaned over in his chair to pick it up.

"Don't, there could be dynamite in there!" Dwight yelled.

Jim looked up at Dwight. "Dynamite? In that little envelope."

"Murphy's Razor," Michael pointed out.

**Michael**

"Murphy's Razor: Always assume your worst fears are real, because they are. You think it's not a real thing? Well, then how do you explain Global Warming?" He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "Checkmate."

"'Our Demands,'" Jim said, reading the envelope out loud.

Dwight walked over and swiped the envelope from Jim's hands. "_I'll _read it." Dwight ripped the top of the envelope open and unfolded the paper within. "'To Michael and his group, As you know, we are holding Kelly hostage. We will gladly return her. However, we have a few simple demands. One: that you share the canned food in your possession. Two: That any other luxuries you have in your possession will be dispersed in a fair and equal manner. Three: that Karen joins our side to replace Pam–'" Jim scrunched his eyebrows at that. "'–Four: you must acknowledge our group as superior. If you fail to comply, then more hostages will be taken.'"

"Well then, the joke's on them," Angela said. "No one here wants Kelly back."

"We can't just let these terrorists get away with anything," Dwight said, looking deeply into Angela's eyes.

"Terrorists?" Jim asked.

"No, Dwight's right," Michael said. "If they don't think our group is a unified unit, then they're going to think they can mess with us more. Sure, it starts with Kelly, but where do we draw the line? Angela? Maybe even Dwight?"

Dwight nodded his head. "We need to defeat them."

"But how do we get in?" Michael asked.

"Don't you have a key to that room?" Ryan asked.

"Oh yeah!" Michael exclaimed, smiling. "I wish I would have remembered that an hour ago."

He reached into his pocket. The smile left his face. He stood up and stuck his hands in and out of every orifice in his clothes. "My keys are missing."

**Creed**

"What, these keys?" He pulled Michael's keys out of his pocket and jingled them in his hands. "You don't really think that Michael could have caught me running with those cans if I didn't intend it? They don't call me Creed the Dirty Bastard Pick-Pocketer for nothin'."

"Don't you have a pair of keys, too, Dwight?" Angela asked.

"Yes," Dwight said, walking to the door. "But I keep them hidden. Under the microwave."

**Creed**

With a sly grin on his face he raised Dwight's keys. In the distance, Dwight screamed, "DAMMIT!"

"I'm getting kind've cold," Karen said, wrapping her arms around her body. Michael's group still sat in his office. "Do you have any blankets?"

"I have some in my rescue kit," Dwight said. "I keep it under my desk. But I need someone to back me up when I enter No-Man's Land."

"I will go with you, Dwight," Angela said courteously.

"Thank you, Angela," Dwight replied. The two left together.

**Dwight**

"They may have taken our keys. But they will never take our spirit. Or our blankets."

Pam stepped out of the stairwell and into the darkened lobby. She walked to Hank's desk. Sitting on it was a box of tissues. "Yes!" she said happily. She ripped five from the top and practically stuffed them into her nose. After she finished clearing her nostrils, she walked behind Hank's desk.

Yawning, she stretched her arms out before slowly lying down. She curled up into a fetal position, her back against the inside of the desk. She closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>All the lights in the warehouse remained on. Up on one of the high shelves, Roy lied in the makeshift bed. His eyes opened slowly. He groggily raised his arm and looked at his watch. "What the hell," he said slowly.<p>

* * *

><p>"We may as well do something while you think of a plan," Karen said, draped in a blanket, like everyone else in Michael's group.<p>

"Yes," Dwight agreed. "Maybe a game will help clear up all of our heads."

Just then, all the lights went off, and Michael's computer shut down.

There was absolute silence.

"Murphy's Razor," Michael whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>Both teams make plans to dominate the other, while a few characters escape the stupidity for a while.

**Please leave a review! **


	5. The Blanket

**Chapter Five**

**Blanket** or **Warmth** or, if you prefer **Extreme Tic-Tac-Toe**

**Jim**

He stood with a heavy blanket cloaking his shoulders, the handle of a white box in one hand, and a candle in the other. "So, everyone in Michael's group is in his office playing Risk. Unfortunately, I don't know how to play.* Michael and Dwight tried to teach me but, to put it lightly, it was disastrous. I suggested Extreme Tic-Tac-Toe, but Karen said that that game was fun every now and again, but got boring really fast. So, since I wasn't playing, Michael commissioned me to gather an arsenal of snowballs for our snowball strike to save Kelly. So, that should be fun. Oh, and in case you were wondering, snowball warfare is Dwight's fourth favorite kind of warfare."

Oscar crouched under his desk. He watched Jim leave Michael's candlelit office, his blanket flowing behind him like a cape. After he left, the camera zoomed out and showed the other members of Oscar's group hiding behind other desks in the office.

**Oscar**

"We all came out for our ambush," he whispered. "We have both sets of keys, so we're not afraid of anyone getting into our base. Michael's group didn't respond to our hostage letter, so we need to increase the stakes a bit. Michael can't stay in there forever, and when he comes out, we'll be there." He shook his head. "Yeah, I can't lie and say I'm not a little ashamed of myself right now. But I am really hungry, and Hungry Oscar is a completely different man from Regular Oscar."

* * *

><p>Roy walked into the lobby. The flashlight in his hand cast its light around the room: the snow-barricaded doors, the desk, the sealed elevator doors. A soft grunt brought the light back to the desk. Roy cocked his head a bit, his eyebrows tensed. The sound came again. "Who's there?" he demanded.<p>

He stepped warily toward the desk. The snoring continued. He walked around the desk. He smiled brilliantly as he shone the light on Pam's sleeping face. Her eyes fluttered open. "Wha- what's going on?" she asked.

"I thought everyone in the office left," Roy said.

Pam slowly sat up. "Roy? Didn't all the warehouse guys leave?" Her body quaked with the cold.

"They did. I was sleeping, and one of them woke me up and told me they were all going, even though Michael didn't say so. I told 'em I just needed five more minutes and went back to sleep. I guess I didn't wake up until it was too late. If I left, I woulda come and got you too."

"Thanks," Pam said, smiling gently.

Roy cleared his throat. "So, is there anything I can do for you?"

Pam hugged herself. "I'm cold. Do you have any extra clothes or anything?"

Roy thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so."

"That's fine. Don't worry about it."

The two stood (or, in Pam's case, sat) in silence for several seconds.

"Okay, well, I'm going back to the warehouse to see if I can find anything useful," Roy said.

"Good luck," Pam said. She lowered her head back down.

Roy left. A deep quiet permeated the room. The click of a door opening ended the silence. Jim walked briskly in, holding a candle to guide him. His footsteps echoed. He walked toward the door, opened it, and knelt down. His knee held the door in place. He put the steel candle holder to the ground and opened the top of the white plastic box (which had a sticker reading 'Property of Dwight K. Schrute'). He placed the top on the ground. He reached into the mass of snow and began pulling out snowballs and depositing them into the box.

Jim filled the box. He put the lid back on and stood up with the candle, letting the door close.

"Who's there?" Pam asked as Jim began to walk.

"Pam?" Jim asked. He walked to the desk and put the candle on its surface. He walked around the desk, as Roy had, and saw Pam sitting by the inconsistent light of the candle.

"Hey," she said, smiling, still shaking.

"You're cold," Jim said. He knelt down in front of her, taking off his blanket and dropping the box. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

"Oh no, you don't-" she started.

"Don't worry about it. I was actually getting too hot. Leave it to Dwight to get blankets heavier than lead."

Pam smiled again. "Thanks." She looked at the box as Jim sat down. "You were getting snowballs?"

Jim sighed a laugh. "Yeah, I know it sounds dumb. Dwight wanted to fight Oscar's Team with snowballs, and it was either I get them or be kicked out of the group, so..."

"You should probably get back up there, or you might be dishonorably discharged."

Jim smiled. "Actually, it's getting pretty weird up there. You care if I stay here for a little?"

"Not at all," Pam said. "Hey, do you want to play Extreme Tic-Tac-Toe?"

"Extreme Tic-Tac-Toe?" Jim repeated. "You remember that?"

"Of course! We used to play it all the time."

Jim nodded. "Yeah. We did. Do you have anything to play on?"

Pam reached to the side, and pulled out a box of tissues from under the shadow of the desk. "We could use one of these."

"Perfect," Jim said, pulling a thin sharpie out of his pocket. "We'll have to write delicately, though."

"Hey, don't look at me. You're the one who always used to leave pokes in the paper."

"Only because you always pulled the paper too tight!"

"Sure, Halpert, whatever you say." Pam smiled teasingly.

The two played for a while.

* * *

><p>Kevin scooted across the floor on his butt from Jim's desk to Oscar. Oscar looked out from under his desk when Kevin sat in whispering-distance. "What is it?" Oscar asked.<p>

"Jim left a long time ago, and he hasn't come back."

"I know."

Meredith, who sat under Angela's desk, said, "He had a Thermos box. I bet he went to get snowballs."

"If he's getting snowballs, we need to get them from him," Stanley said from a corner in the room.

"It's too cold to screw around with snowballs," Meredith agreed.

"We need to stay focused," Oscar said. "We're here to get Michael. We can't change our plans based on a suspicion."

"Why not?" Kevin asked. "I say we wait for Jim to come back up, and jump him and get his snowballs."

"Let's put it to a vote," Phyllis said from behind reception. "Everyone in favor?"

A handful of 'aye's and 'me's and 'yes's went around the room.

"That's more than the minority," Kevin pointed out.

Oscar sighed. "Okay, fine. But this is stupid." He shook his head and muttered under his breath, "This is really stupid."

* * *

><p>"Another win for me," Jim said, circling a line of X's. He crumpled the tissue and tossed it among the substantial pile of other used gameboards.<p>

"Okay, so maybe you _are _a little bit better at this," Pam replied. She yawned. "I can barely keep my eyes open."

"I guess that's the last one, then. I better go back upstairs."

Pam lied back down as Jim stood up. He turned, took the candle, and stepped toward the stairwell.

"Jim?"

Jim turned around and looked at Pam. "Yeah?"

"Why doesn't your group just share the food?"

"The food belongs to Dwight. There's nothing I can do about it."

"I was thinking maybe Attila the Hun could do something about it."

Jim smiled. "How do you know about that?"

"Dwight sent me the forward, along with about two hundred other people. I could tell you wrote it."

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Maybe Attila the Hun_ could_ do something."

"Be a hero," Pam called as Jim went back to the stairs.

He left. Pam sighed. She pulled a tissue out of the box and grabbed the sharpie Jim left behind. She sketched with short, easy strokes. After a few minutes she finished: a drawing of a superhero. Smiling, she wrote 'Halpert Man' under the picture.

* * *

><p>* <strong>Jim does eventually learn to play Risk. <strong>And it is _quite _a story. On my profile, check out the Office fanfiction _Global Domination_.

**Next Chapter:** Snowball fight.

**One more announcement: **Please review. It's what Attila the Hun would've wanted.


	6. Snowball Warfare

**Chapter Six**

**Snowball Warfare**

**Jim**

He stood in the hallway with the box in one hand and the candle in the other. "So the plan is to convince Dwight that he must share his food evenly with the others, or else Attila the Hun will get him. If it works, I'm guessing that within ten minutes there shouldn't be any more conflict."

Jim walked to the door. He blew out the candle and put it to the ground. He opened the door.

"GOT 'IM!" Kevin shouted as he grabbed the Thermos box in Jim's hands.

"Hey what are you-" Jim started.

"_HEY_ WHAT'S GOING ON OUT THERE?" Michael screamed. A moment later he flung himself onto Kevin, his hands on Kevin's shoulders and his feet off the ground.

"Guys, cut it out!" Jim said. He hunched over the box and ran past Kevin into the office. He made it near his desk when his right foot collided with Creed's outstretched leg. He fell to the ground. The box opened, and the snowballs poured all over the floor.

"Get the weapons!" Dwight hollered.

Michael's Team and Oscar's Team converged from different sides to grab the frozen projectiles. Jim covered his face in his hands.

When Creed reached the exposed snowballs, he unzipped his pants and started tossing them in. Dwight took the opportunity to whip a ball in Creed's face. "Defend the office!" Dwight ordered. "It's where all our resources are."

Immediately, Oscar and Phyllis ran toward the office door, each with a snowball in hand.

"NO!" Dwight shouted. He ran to get to the door, which stood entirely unguarded, first. A barrage of snowballs hit his back.

Karen knelt down beside Jim as snowballs zipped back and forth over their heads. "Hey big guy, need a little help?" She extended her hand to him.

"This is _not _how I imagined this playing out," Jim said with a smile as he took her hand. She got him half-way to his feet before a pair hands grabbed him by the arms.

"Oh no you don't," Stanley said, pulling Jim away. "You're coming with us."

"Stanley, seriously?" Karen demanded. A snowball smashed into the side of her face. Her jaw dropped and her eyes flared. She turned. "Meredith, you _bitch_!" She grabbed a snowball and hurled it.

Michael, about to throw a snowball across the room to Creed, saw Stanley taking Jim toward the kitchen, and pointed. "My team! Save Jim." No one reacted in the chaos.

Kevin ran forward and hopped onto a chair sitting between the accounting corner and the sales desks. It rolled forward with his momentum and he pelted the people below. Soon the chair stopped, causing Kevin to lose balance, and he fell down to the floor, hollering and dropping his few remaining snowballs.

**Creed**

He sat with his back to a desk. "I once robbed a grocery store with only snowballs. True story. So yes, I would call myself an expert. One moment." He unzipped his pants and pulled out five snowballs. He turned around, peeked his head over the desk, and threw the snowballs at incredible speed. He turned back to the camera. "Here's a fun fact for you: snow is actually made out of water."

The two teams stood scattered throughout the office, scanning the ground.

"I think all the snowballs are gone," Dwight said.

"Yeah," Oscar agreed.

"That really got out of hand," Michael said. Everyone else in the room nodded and submitted their 'yeah,'s, and 'I guess that's true's. "BACK TO THE BASE!" Michael screamed over the mumbling. His team ran back to his office which Oscar's Team retreated to the break room.

When Michael entered, followed closely by his group, Toby stood in the middle of the room. "Wait," Toby said slowly, "I thought Oscar and Phyllis got all of our stuff?"

"No, Dwight stopped them," Michael replied. "Why, what does it matter?"

"Well I–"

"Hey, Toby got more food," Karen said, pointing to the food pile on the ground. It now contained a multitude of chip bags and even some non-canned light meats.

**Toby**

"Over the years I've realized people tend to forget I exist. So, when I saw Oscar and Phyllis about to steal our food, I thought it was a good time for me to go get their stuff. Just to even it out, but... now I just feel bad. And I know Michael's not going to let me give the food back."

"What happened?" Oscar asked incredulously. His team stood around the table that used to hold their food.

"We've been robbed, that's what happened," Creed said.

"Oh, how could we have been so short-sighted?" Oscar asked. He put his hand to his dark hair and wiped off crispy white flakes of snow. "What are we going to do now?"

"Guys, this makes me," Kevin paused, fuming, trying to find the right word, "_upset!_"

"I have a solution to all this, if any of you are interested," Jim said. He stood in the hostage corner next to a sitting Kelly. "But you're going to have to let me out of here."

* * *

><p>Michael's group stood or sat around, eating their new food in the candlelight (Toby sat in the corner again).<p>

"Can we just give this whole thing up?" Karen asked between bites of chips. "There's no reason why I shouldn't be able to be with Jim right now."

"If you still want a share of those chips, I recommend you shut your trap immediately," Dwight said roughly. Angela's eyes glimmered with admiration as she looked at him.

A strong rapping on the shared wall with the Conference Room ended all idle conversation. The knocking continued, now accompanied by a deep, ghostly groaning. Eerie organ chords joined the cacophony of sounds.

"What is that?" Ryan asked.

"Quiet, and maybe we'll be able to hear," Dwight said as he pressed his ear against the wall.

The moaning grew more coherent. "..._Dwighttt...come here... alone..._"

The color left Dwight's face and his jaw slackened. "Oh no," he whispered. He went toward the door.

"No, Dwight," Angela protested, walking up to him, "it's a trap."

Dwight turned to look down at her. "Woman, you don't understand. I must now meet my destiny."

"What the hell is he talking about?" Michael whispered, his eyes shifting to Ryan, who shrugged in return.

Dwight gulped, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Straightening his posture to an unnatural height, he stepped stiffly to the Conference Room door. The horrific noises crescendoed as he approached. He opened the door very slowly.

The man stood in front of the window, the moonlight brightly lining the shape of his tall body. He wore a black jacket with a hood that obscured his face. His arms were folded. The camera quickly zoomed in on a little speaker in his hand, from which the organ chords came.

"Please," Dwight said quietly, "I didn't know what sacrifices you required an–"

"SILENCE!" the man said in a raspy voice.

"Okay," Dwight immediately answered.

"You have displeased me." Dwight's eyes lowered to the ground. "Yet I cannot pretend I am not somewhat impressed. No man yet has had the boldness to defy one of my email forwards." Dwight looked up, his chest swelling while a little smile curved the corners of his lips. "I will allow you to live. However, there is a condition."

"Anything!"

"Peace Negotiations."

**Jim**

"Oscar's Team put the whole ensemble together in about ten minutes. The hard part was convincing them that Dwight would actually buy it. That took about twenty minutes."

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter: <strong>An agreement is worked out.

**Hey, as long as I got you here, why not leave a review? It could be fun! :D**


	7. Peace Negotiations

**Chapter Seven**

**Peace Negotiation**

"First and foremost," Michael said, "we want you to acknowledge that we were obviously the superior team."

Michael sat at one end of the Conference Room table, on which rested three candles to light the room. Michael's Team stood behind him. Oscar sat at the other end of the table, with his team behind him. "I suppose we can agree to that," he said.

**Michael**

"Dwight, being the idiot that he is, threatened to remove all of his food from our group if I didn't agree to peace negotiations. He wants a treaty. Which is stupid. What war ever ended with a treaty?"

"We want our hostages returned," Michael continued.

"Of course."

"We want the refrigerator to be returned."

"Agreed."

"We want your team to disband."

"I can agree to that if you can agree to our terms."

"What are your terms?"

"We want an equal share of the food. We want access to the blankets. We want _your _team to be disbanded."

"Disbanded?" Michael repeated, crossly. "Now let's not forget who the winner is here."

"Why does it matter?" Oscar replied. "The whole point of teams was to exclude people from getting food. If we're all going to be sharing anyway, then it goes without saying that the teams would be dissolved."

"Then why did you even make that one of your terms."

"To be sure that you don't go back on your deal."

Michael scoffed. "That's not something I would–"

"Yes, Michael, it is."

"No it's–"

Everyone in the room contradicted Michael at once.

"All right, all right!" Michael waved his hands in the air. "My team disbands. But only if your team promises to all chip in to get a victory plaque for the Michael Team."

"Seriously, Michael, that's a little ridiculous."

"We'll make you victory brownies, but no plaque," Phyllis said.

"Fine, then make it a victory pie," Michael demanded.

"Victory cake," Phyllis said.

"Mmmm..." Michael hummed indecisively.

"With 'Congratulations Michael's Team for Winning Based on Your Superior Intelligences' written with frosting," Oscar added.

"You've got yourself a deal," Michael said, slamming his palms on the table and rising to his feet. Oscar rose at the same time and they met halfway down the table and shook hands. "It was a pleasure to dominate you."

The camera zoomed in on Dwight, who mouthed, 'Level Six.'

Oscar gave Michael a slow, shallow nod.

**Oscar**

"I'm glad _that's_ over."

Everyone in the office (except for Pam) stood around the food pile on Michael's floor.

"This is all you guys have?" Kevin asked.

"What did you expect?" Dwight spat. "If we would have had a plentiful supply we wouldn't have had to defend it."

"There's no way we're all going to be able to get enough to eat," Phyllis said.

"We'll do our best," Jim said. "At least now we can all eat _something_."

"It's no less than we should have expected," Oscar commented.

"Hey, guys!" a deep voice called from the hallway outside the office. Everyone turned to the window and saw Roy and Pam walking into the office together. "I found a bunch of pizzas in the warehouse." Roy stood in the doorway holding five boxes of cold pizza. Pam stood just behind, beaming. "We're all going to have plenty to eat."

Everyone in Michael's office smiled.

* * *

><p>Both groups, along with Pam and Roy, ate together in the Conference Room.<p>

"You've got to show me how you throw snowballs that fast," Jim said, taking a seat against the wall next to Creed.

Creed turned and smiled. "It's all in the wrist, my young friend."

"Is it?" Jim asked. A burst of laughter turned Jim's attention to the corner of the room. Pam stood next to Roy, leaning forward a bit with her hand covering her mouth. Roy laughed with her, though much more lightly than she. Jim turned away, his eyes suddenly vacant.

"Who's there?" Dwight demanded. He stood toward the back of the room, glaring at the door. A hush took over the room as everyone turned to see the visitor.

A man with a a scraggly orange beard and a pink, bald head stepped through the doorway. "I'm Joseph Horner, we heard that there might be people trapped in here."

"Awesome!" Dwight exclaimed, running toward the man and grabbing his hand. "Is that a SWAT jacket?" His eyes drank in the gray coat, lined with colorful badges.

The man gave Dwight a yellow-toothed smile. "Yes, the blizzard's been so bad they've been calling in anyone who can help. We had a helicopter, so they told us to see what we could do."

"Wait, so we're all going to get to ride in a helicopter?" Kelly asked.

"That's correct. It's on the roof right now."

Kelly let out a squeal of excitement and grabbed Ryan's arm. "This is _so _fabulous. I've always wanted to ride in a helicopter." Ryan rolled his eyes.

"We'll have to make two trips," Joseph said. "Who wants to go first?"

**Michael**

"So, in the end, things worked out pretty okay. Maybe Murphy's Razor isn't always right. I don't know. Who am I to disagree with science?"

**Jim**

"After today, I really only have one question: what is the limit of things Dwight will do because an email forward told him to? I think I will partake in a quest to find out."

**Stanley**

"I am _not _coming in to work tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. I want to especially thank those who left reviews. If you haven't left a review yet, please take the opportunity now. It's even easier than it looks. ;)<strong>

**But fishe153, what if I STILL want to read**** more Office fanfictions? **Not a problem! Check out my profile for two other office fics of varying length.


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